library 'verse
by onceuponaplot
Summary: university au / "No way!" Bucky crows, turning back to Steve. "Is that Library Guy?" Steve slowly turns redder and redder, his pointed silence telling Bucky all that he needs to know, eyes carefully locked on the floor between his feet. / In which there are two students, a library, and meddling friends.
1. bite

_Originally posted in November 2014 as part of a 30 day writing challenge on Archive of Our Own._

* * *

No matter what Bucky says, Steve maintains that the fight really was his last resort. Bucky doubts that's true (because honestly, he's only known the guy two years but that's more than long enough to see how quickly fights can break out when Steve's in a mood) but he lets it slide. There's only so long you can berate a guy as he sulks in the ER looking pathetic without feeling a little guilty.

So Bucky's been regaling him with tales of his latest project in Professor Erskine's lab as Steve grows more and more sullen and sinks farther and farther down his chair. He's in the midst of describing how they're using radio frequencies when he notices Steve perk up and he does his best not to look around too obviously.

He gets his answer as he glances around at the other patients, eyes catching on a blonde and a brunette sitting across the room, a few yards from where Steve and Bucky are situated. The blonde looks bored, one towel-wrapped hand in his lap and the other propping up his chin. The brunette's mouth moves every once in a while, but for the most part her hands move about in the air in something Bucky thinks is-

"No way," Bucky crows, turning back to Steve. "Is that Library Guy?"

Steve slowly turns redder and redder, his pointed silence telling Bucky all that he needs to know, his eyes carefully locked on the floor between his feet.

Bucky glances back over his shoulder, watches as the blonde signs something with his good hand. Bucky's no expert, but from what Steve's taught him he thinks it might be something about a dog. "What are the odds, huh?" He bumps his shoulder against Steve's, laughs when he receives a sharp kick to the shin.

"I swear to god, Bucky, if you say anything-"

Bucky leans in close to Steve's ear, whispers, "Library Guy is totally staring at you, Steve."

"What?" Steve's head shoots up so fast that Bucky's excellent reflexes are the only reason he doesn't get a face-full of his friend's skull.

Library Guy is still watching his friend and Steve punches Bucky's arm with surprising force for a guy his size. Bucky's pretty sure the strangled sound that comes out of Steve's throat is supposed to be an "Eff you" that gets stuck when Library Guy really _does_ look over and freezes like a deer in headlights when he catches sight of Bucky and Steve staring back. His face does an interesting twist before he sinks lower in his chair, lips moving fast as he mutters something to his friend.

"You should ask him out," Bucky says and Steve does another impression of a strangled duck.

"Bucky, I can't just ask out someone I met in the emergency room-"

"Well, yeah, you met him in the library. That's kind of why I've been calling him Library Guy."

"We've never spoken-"

"You literally come back to the apartment multiple times a week telling me how funny he is."

"We sign to each other from down the aisles, mostly just jokes and stuff, that's hardly-"

"I'll do it for you," Bucky offers, and _that's_ enough to make Steve fall silent. "Yes? No? Give me something to work with here, Steve."

Steve's beet red again, but he nods slowly and Bucky grins, extracts his arm from behind Steve's shoulders and starts walking over to Library Guy and his friend before Steve can change his mind.

Library Guy is hissing something else to his friend as Bucky approaches, and he's pretty sure he hears something along the lines of " _told_ you he probably has a boyfriend or something, Maria-" before he's standing in front of them and they're both watching him wordlessly.

"Hey," he says. Waves a little. "So my friend, Steve?" He points over his shoulder, turns and waves at Steve a little. Steve looks ready to die but he waves back. When Bucky returns his focus to Library Guy and Friend (Maria?), Library Guy looks nervous and Maria looks amused. "For the past, like, month, you're all he talks about every time he gets back from the library, and he'd be over here himself asking if you want to get a coffee sometime if he wasn't so worried that you're not interested at all."

Maria smirks a little wider, turns it on Library Guy after a few seconds.

"What?" Library Guy splutters. "You mean you're not- The two of you aren't- Coffee?"

"Yeah, I mean, unless you hate coffee. Then he'd like to get some pizza or see a movie or something. I promise he doesn't bite."

Library Guy just sits there staring past Bucky at Steve for a few minutes until his friend sighs and nudges him. "Clint."

"Yes!" Library Guy – Clint – blurts. "I mean – I love coffee, yes, I'd like to get some. With Steve. If he wants."

Bucky nods. "He does." He grins and jerks a thumb towards Steve again. "So I'll just go let him know you said yes, and I'll send him over so you can figure out when you're both free?"

"I- Yeah, yeah that'd be good."

Bucky schools his features into neutrality as he walks back to Steve, sighs heavily when he plops back down in the seat next to his friend.

"Sorry, Steve," he says, and Steve looks down at the floor. "I didn't know what your schedule's like this week so you're gonna have to go and set up the rest of your coffee date with Clint yourself."

The second punch is totally worth the look on Steve's face when he realizes what Bucky's just said.

Despite his best efforts not to, Bucky still bursts out laughing when Steve, impossibly, blushes even harder after Clint waves to him from across the room.


	2. book

Tony Stark flops down into the chair across from Clint, sunglasses on and smartphone in hand. He lowers his glasses enough to stare at Clint over the frames in full-on business mode. "Clint, I've got good news and bad news, which do you want first?"

Clint sighs and puts down the journal he was reading to pin Tony with a stare of his own. He's been told on more than one occasion that it's eerie how long he can go without blinking, and since being made aware he's made good use of the talent.

Stark lasts about thirty seconds before he caves and starts talking. "Okay. Good news then: I saw Tiny Lumberjack heading into the bookstore about five minutes ago, and you could probably happen to run into him if you hurry over there now," Tony says. What he was doing in the bookstore Clint has no idea – as far as he knows Tony hasn't set foot in there once since freshman year and doesn't have any plans to break that streak – but the information is appreciated regardless.

Because he needs to put up at least some token protest before Tony will continue, he sighs, "For the last time, he's not a lumberjack, and he only wore plaid that one time."

"Whatever," Tony says with an absent wave of his hand. "Anyway. Bad news: he was with one of his friends and I overheard them-"

"Oh my god, Tony, please don't tell me you _followed_ them."

"-and sorry but it looks like you dragged your feet too long about asking him out. He was telling them how he's going on a date-"

"This Wednesday, yeah, I know," Clint says. He picks up the article he was reading again and uncaps his highlighter to mark one of the paragraphs.

He ignores Tony's spluttering for the next few minutes as he reads and makes notes in one of the margins. Clint glances up again when Tony falls silent, finds himself at the receiving end of an impressive pout.

"What?"

"How did you know?" Tony asks. "What's your source? Because from what I understood when you were telling all of us about this guy a few weeks ago, you don't know any of his friends and he doesn't know any of us."

Clint sighs and puts the journal back on the table. "Obviously I consulted my book of magic spells and put some tracking voodoo on him."

Tony rolls his eyes, then steals Clint's coffee and takes a sip.

"Tony, I know Steve's going on a date because I'm the date."

Stark doesn't spit the coffee back out, but Clint thinks it's a near thing, and he surreptitiously moves his papers out of harm's way.

"Barton! When did this happen and why am I only just now hearing about it?"

"You got back from California yesterday and this is the first I've seen you." Clint holds up his hand and waves it around. "Maria told you what happened to my hand last Saturday, yeah? Well, Steve was at the ER too and we talked and we're getting coffee Wednesday."

There's really no reason for Tony to look so scandalized that he was not the first to know about a change in Clint's love life, but Clint can't bring himself to pretend that he wasn't expecting the exaggerated gasp that follows his announcement.

"And you didn't _text_ me? Barton, I cannot believe you."

Clint snags his coffee back from Tony and returns his focus to the journal once more. Tony continues his impromptu speech heedless of Clint's waning attention. It's good background noise, if nothing else, and Clint only tunes back in when he's finished reading the article and Tony is winding down. Clint's a little lost at first – Tony has somehow segued from Steve and Clint's impending date to the graduate level robotics class he's taking – but soon he's laughing at the antics that Tony and his lab partner have been getting up to.

Best of all, it means Tony's forgotten about Steve for now at the very least, and Clint will be able to avoid further interrogation.


	3. aqua

Steve blames the near-concussion for the frankly ridiculous amount of blushing that occurred in the ER. Because Steve, contrary to what Bucky has taken to announcing to their friends at every possible moment for the past week, doesn't actually blush that often, and certainly not because he's spotted his crush. Even if he has been trying to find a way to start an actual conversation for weeks, and the crush has grown to ridiculous proportions.

Definitely the almost-concussion's fault.

His evidence is this: he has now been in Clint's presence for nearly two hours now and aside from one incident where he laughed so hard he could barely breathe, his face has remained its normal color.

It helps that they're not just sitting in the coffee shop, and Clint's suggestion of a walk through one of the local parks has proven to be a good one. Steve can let his guard down, and the movement keeps the nervous energy from building up to the point that he starts vibrating where he stands.

Steve grins when he feels Clint's hand bump against and then carefully wrap around his own. Clint's palm is warm, and rough, and Steve swings their hands a little as they continue.

To say he's disappointed when his phone beeps to remind him that he needs to head towards campus if he doesn't want to be late for class is a vast understatement.

"I had a really good time," he tells Clint on the walk back to campus. Bumps their shoulders together when Clint murmurs, "Yeah, me too."

It still feels too soon when they reach Steve's residence hall and Steve lingers outside, keeping up the debate over which dog breed is best that started a few blocks down just for an excuse to stay a little longer.

His phone chirps again – and Bucky must have grabbed it and entered another alarm when Steve wasn't looking, because ' _HEY PAL UR CUTTIN IT CLOSE! ;)_ ' is really not the kind of thing Steve would leave for himself. When he looks back up, Clint is close. With so little distance between them, Steve imagines he can see a dozen different blues in Clint's eyes, aqua and cerulean and sapphire and more, and he smiles again.

His cheeks hurt from smiling so much today.

"I'd like to take you out again sometime," Clint says.

Steve nods. "I'd like that too."

"I'd really like to kiss you, if that's alright."

Steve feels his cheeks stretch even wider before he nods again.

They break apart a few minutes later by the blaring sound of a foghorn and the violent buzzing of Steve's phone in his pocket.

' _U CANT B LATE I REFUSE TO WORK W/BRADY AGAIN GET TO CLASS :|:|:|:|:|_ '

"Bucky!"


	4. quiet

The covers are a damn furnace when Steve wakes up, and there's something like a log draped across his stomach and chest.

He squirms for a minute, sleep addled and effectively blind without his glasses, until the log moves, tightens a little with a soft huff of breath and a low murmur against the back of his neck.

Steve glances down at the blurry grey arm tucked up against his chest, takes a moment to catalogue the line of warmth along his back. "Huh." Upon further inspection, Steve is still in his jeans from the day before, and he's pretty sure his socks are on too.

Squinting in the dim room, he can just make out the shape of his Converse by his desk, some larger, less familiar dark blur next to them.

It's still dark out, light from the streetlights outside peeking through his blinds. The quiet time of night when most people are safely tucked away in bed, wrapped up in dreams and warm blankets.

Steve shifts again and something sharp digs into his thigh. With a frown Steve investigates, frowns further when he pulls his notebook and an architecture textbook from beneath his comforter. He's too tired just then to wonder why he has an architecture textbook, simply shoves both books onto his nightstand and kicks the comforter a little farther away so that he's not roasting.

Normally, this is the time of year he'd be bundled up to stay nice and toasty through the night, but Mystery Snuggler is warm, and as much as Steve enjoys wrapping himself in a cocoon of blankets, cuddling is much higher on the list of 'Things Steve Rogers Enjoys'. He cranes his neck to see who's behind him, smiles a little at the messy shock of blonde hair and scruff he can make out behind his shoulder before he settles down and tucks himself back into the embrace he'd woken in.

Steve's rewarded with another of those soft little sighs and then he's gone, unconscious and dreaming within minutes.

He's jolted awake by pounding on his door and Bucky shouting "I'm making pancakes, and if you're not out here in fifteen minutes I'm eating them all myself!"

Still drowsy from the sudden awakening, Steve has a few seconds to wonder why one of Clint's textbooks is sitting on his nightstand when he's startled by something moving beside him. He scoots a few inches over to make room for the other body that is apparently inhabiting his bed only for Clint himself to blink up at him. He looks as bleary-eyed and messy-haired as Steve feels.

"Good morning," Clint signs with a yawn, stretching a moment later. Steve perks up a little when Clint does, watches carefully as the movement tugs Clint's rumpled sweatshirt up just enough to get a peek at his abs. The blonde raises a brow and smirks when he catches Steve's eye, huffs out a little laugh and tugs Steve down for a chaste kiss.

"When did we fall asleep?" Clint asks. Steve shrugs, flops down on Clint's chest and closes his eyes again.

As Clint's hand comes up to rub his back, Steve says, "Dunno. Late. Buck's making pancakes – you want some?"

When Clint doesn't respond right away Steve opens his eyes again, grins at Clint's fuzzy expression. "What kind of question is that, Steve? Of course I want pancakes."

Steve hums, curls back into Clint's side. "Good. Wake me up in ten minutes? He really will eat them if we're not there."

"Sure," Clint murmurs as his arms wrap back around Steve.

Bucky's left a plates of crumbs in front of Steve's door and a kitchen full of dirty dishes by the time they wake up again.


	5. heart

Steve has no words, and he can't even bring himself to tear his eyes away.

One thing he knows for sure: Clint wasn't lying when he said it's probably the ugliest Christmas sweater in the state. It's easily one of the most unique Steve's ever encountered. There's tinsel and reindeer and what looks like some kind of string of fake popcorn looped around the cuffs, and Clint is beaming at Steve like a parent whose kid just won the first grade spelling bee.

Steve's familiar with the look; it tends to start making appearances once Clint's downed a few shots in quick succession.

"Isn't it perfect?" Clint sighs, extending his arms and doing a quick spin. A few shiny strands of tinsel float to the ground in his wake.

"It's not even Thanksgiving yet," Steve says. He inches a bit closer though, runs careful fingers down a complicated pattern on Clint's bicep.

"Yeah, but if I don't start looking now then I might not find The One. Nat always has the worst sweaters and she's beat me in the competition every year since junior high, and I want to win at least _once_."

Clint does another quick spin and something that looks suspiciously like pine needles falls onto the floor. Steve eyes them for a moment before deciding not to think about it.

The sweater is definitely bad, but after meeting Natasha, Steve has the feeling that Clint's garment will have to be truly horrendous to try and beat her. Behind all her jokes and pranks, Natasha is scarily competent and Steve has no doubts that talent extends into ugly Christmas sweater competitions.

"Hmm," Steve hums and pulls out his phone. His mother replies quickly to his text ( _Hold on, sweetie, I know where it is. I'll send a picture_ ) and Clint watches in confusion and hovers close by as Steve perches on his desk and swings his feet while he waits for the next message. It's only a few minutes before his phone is buzzing again, and Steve grins at the picture before tilting the screen Clint's way.

He can tell when it really sinks in from the way Clint's eyes go wide and his jaw drops a little. He wraps an arm around Steve and leans even closer to the screen.

"Steve, are those-"

"Yep."

"Shit. How? No, no- where did she even _get_ this so fast?"

Steve laughs. "Mom and I started getting one every year when I was in the fifth grade. Found this one freshman year and it's been our favorite ever since. She said she'd send it, if you want?"

"Steve, I'm sorry but after this and the cookies last week, your mom has stolen my heart. This could actually stand a chance against Natasha."

Steve gasps, presses a hand against his chest. "Traitor!"

"Seriously, Steve, I think I love her even more than I love you."

It clicks for them both at the same moment, and Steve feels the way Clint's arm goes tense over his shoulders. He sneaks a glance at the side of Clint's face, the carefully neutral line of his mouth.

Steve laughs quietly and leans into Clint's side. "I'll tell her she should send it when she gets a chance, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'll be good."

"Good."

Steve waits a beat until Clint's relaxed a little and isn't quite so tense at his side.

"Love you too, Clint."

It turns out that Clint blushes even worse than Steve.


	6. key

Clint's in the middle of reorganizing his desk when he finds it.

It's a small envelope, stuffed in the back of one drawer. Steve has scrawled Clint's name across the front of it in big, block letters and beneath, slightly smaller, are the words ' _CALL STEVE WHEN YOU FIND ME :)_ '.

He smiles, examines the envelope a little closer. It's slightly bent and wrinkled, but as far as he can tell it hasn't been in his desk too long. Steve was last over on Monday, and Clint can't think of any other time's he's left Steve alone in his room that he could have stashed this in his desk.

Clint had been gone all of ten seconds – maybe less – and yet somehow he's not at all surprised that he didn't catch Steve in the act. He can be surprisingly stealthy when he puts his mind to it.

The envelope isn't heavy, and it's easy enough to take off the single piece of Scotch tape holding it shut.

Clint tips the contents out and pauses when a small, silver key tumbles into his palm.

There's a folded piece of paper in the envelope, too, and Clint pulls it out to get a closer look.

' _you're here like every day anyway so I figured this would be easier when I'm running late so you're not stuck waiting outside -Steve_

 _( & Buck's cool w/it btw so no worries on that front)_

 _( & if this is too soon let me know okay? don't want to freak you out!)'_

He smiles softly at Steve's note, runs his fingertips over the slightly shaky lines of the second postscript.

The key sits, shiny and new, in his hand and feel far heavier than it actually is. Clint reaches for his phone a second later, desk forgotten, and types in Steve's number on autopilot.

Steve answers on the third ring sounding breathless, the sounds of a crowd a low murmur in the background. " _Hey, what's up?_ "

"No," Clint says. He can practically see Steve's confused little pout over the phone.

About thirty seconds later, Steve says, " _What?_ "

Clint laughs. "It's not too soon, you giant dork."

Steve's quiet and Clint laughs again, can't keep the smile off his face. " _It's… You found it!_ "

"You could have just asked me like a normal human being and I would've gotten you a key to my place, too."

Clint kicks his feet up and wedges his phone between his ear and shoulder so that he can twirl the key around between his fingers.

" _Oh._ "

"Yeah." He grabs his key ring and slips Steve's key on; he can't stop himself from admiring it as it hangs between the key to his own apartment and the keychain he picked up the last time he went to DC.

"Come over tonight for dinner," Clint says when Steve's been silent a few minutes.

" _As long as you don't try to make risotto again. I don't think I could survive that again._ "

"I was thinking more along the lines of ordering some pizza and watching some Netflix."

" _I'm in. Bad movie night?_ "

Clint grins. "Bad movie night. Call when you need me to come let you in."

" _Sure thing. Love you._ "

"Love you too."

Clint slips his keys and wallet into his pockets and heads out to the hardware store. He's still smiling like a goof when he hands his key over to the clerk to get a copy made.


End file.
